


In Sickness and In Health

by casesandcapitals



Series: Dom!Gee [2]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M, Sick!Frank, Vomiting, use of a safeword
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-12
Updated: 2013-04-12
Packaged: 2017-12-08 05:50:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/757801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casesandcapitals/pseuds/casesandcapitals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank gets sick.</p><p>Time stamp from some time after "My Perfect Boy".</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Sickness and In Health

**Author's Note:**

> You can all thank/blame momiji_neyuki for suggesting I turn this into a series XD  
> More to come later!

I'm in the car, five minutes from home, when my phone buzzes. I wait until I get to a stoplight to check it, quickly unlocking the keys.  
It's a text from Frank.  
 _Applesauce._  
I speed the rest of the way home. I don't spare any time texting back, if he's using our safe word then that means something's not right.  
Three steps up the porch and a short fumble with the doorknob later and I'm inside.  
"Frankie?" I call out gently, keeping a handle on my urgency.  
He's not in the kitchen and there's no coffee made.  
He's not in the living room and the tv is off.  
Then I hear retching.  
"Oh baby. Oh Frankie," I groan, pushing open the bathroom door and finding him slumped over the toilet. His hair is messy and he's still in his pajamas pants and a t-shirt, making me think he hasn't showered yet today. The cell phone I got him is sitting on the floor next to him.  
My poor boy is shaking, shivering and moaning.  
"Gee-" He starts retching again and I drop to the floor to hold him and rub his back.  
"You want some water, baby?" I ask as soon as he stops to gasp.  
"Please?"  
It takes me barely a minute to grab a glass from the kitchen and fill it with water, but the entire time I'm restraining the urge to rush back to Frank's side. He's puking again when I get back to him. I set the glass on the floor next to his knee and lean close, rubbing my hand up and down his spine.  
When it finally seems like there's nothing left in his stomach to come up, he turns and grabs the glass. He rinses his mouth first, spitting into the toilet. I reach past him to flush it. He sips at the remaining water.  
He looks so miserable, so pale and shaky, that I can't help but to pull him into my lap. He nuzzles his head under my chin, legs sticking out to the side and knees shaking. He holds the glass of water close to his chest with both hands.  
"Frankie, what happened?" I ask gently, stroking his hair away from his sweaty forehead.  
"Dunno, I just got real sick, real fast," Frank mumbles.  
"When?"  
"Like... like ten-ish."  
I scowl. "You should've called me Frank, I would've come home and taken care of you."  
"It's fine," he says, shifting his head a bit, rubbing it against the collar of my shirt. "Didn't want you to miss work."  
"I hate that you were alone all day like this, baby." I try my best to not pull him too close. My sick, delicate little boy.  
"You're here now," he sighs.  
I sit for a while with him sideways in my lap, cradled to my chest. I gently tug the glass from his fingers when he starts to droop.  
"Frankie, are you tired?" I ask, pulling him up a little straighter.  
"Yeah," he answers softly.  
"You want me to bring you to bed?"  
"Yes, please."  
After a bit of maneuvering and shifting, I get to my feet and pull him up, hugging him to my chest. He's weak enough that he just curls up, limp in my arms, and lets me carry him. He falls asleep on the short journey across our house. I set him down gently against the mattress, wiggling my arms out from under him carefully so as to not wake him. I pull the covers from my half of the bed over to lay them on Frank, wrapping him in a blanket cocoon.  
He shifts a little and whines, high pitched and pitiful sounding. I purse my lips and step quietly out of the room.  
I clean the bathroom first, wiping up a little puddle of vomit on the floor and then disinfecting the toilet. I put his glass in the sink and get a new one, filling it with water. I snag some Tums from the cabinet on my way back to the bedroom and set both items on Frank's bedside table.  
His face is the only bit of him I can see poking out of the blankets, his skin is pallid and sweaty. His forehead burns when I set my fingers against it.  
"Oh, Frankie," I mutter sadly.  
At the sound of my voice he rolls closer to my side of the bed, pushing blankets off and reaching out. His fingers touch the empty space of the mattress.  
"Gerard?" he whines, peeking an eye open.  
"Right here, baby," I assure him. I kick my shoes off and circle around to climb into bed, covering him in blankets again and pulling him against my chest.  
"Don't feel good," he pouts.  
"I know," I sigh. "How can I make you feel better?"  
"Stay here with me," he demands softly.  
Frank pushes an arm free from the blankets to drape it across me. He shifts a little, getting comfortable, then sighs and drifts off again.  
His head is a reassuring weight on my shoulder. His arm feels protective over my heart, keeping me pinned to the bed. I bring my hand up to cover his so his fingers don't get cold, then I shut my eyes.  
If he wants me to stay with him, I'll stay here all night.


End file.
